Expectations
by AnakinSparta
Summary: Sorry for any spelling blunders. No one expected to ever get close to Jim Moriarty. More importantly, no body ever expect the infamous Moriarty to care about someone, he was strictly against it. Sentiment was not an acceptable excuse. Then Sebastian Moran happens. Self harm, slight blood, slight language, suicide mention. T


Expectations

No one expected to ever become close with Jim Moriarty. The psychopath was a cold blooded murder who attacked people simply for kicks or even worse, to alleviate boredom. No one was more adamant that the small ball of evil was simply that-evil, than his right hand man.

Sebastian Moran wasn't completely mentally stable himself, but he wasn't the sort to kill people just for lack of activity in his schedule. Free time to him was rare and a gift if his wicked employer was busy enough to allow him it, instead of forcing the man to spend time with him, much to serve his own fancy than any other tasks.

The sniper didn't try to fool himself, he knew that every time they slept together or joked around that it was nothing more than the carefully constructed façade the man was so intent on wearing. There had been many personal assistants and snipers before him all of which came to their unfortunate fate far too early. Sebastian knew it was just a matter of time until it was his own grave to be buried in Moriarty's personal cemetery. It wasn't as if he had a choice, life before Jim had been just a bad. Worse, even. Every day was a battle to survive and outsmart the vicious gangs dotting the terrible London underworld. Now everyday it was a battle between the definite unrequited feelings bubbling inside him. With every term of endearment they exchanged, every drunken confessional he heard, every time he was the one to save his boss from self-administered death, he was beginning to fall in love. If he wanted to admit his feelings aloud, he would know for a fact that he was well past the point of beginning to fall and into the pit of painful, inevitable, rejection if the small but dangerous man were to ever find out. The Consulting Criminal didn't feel sentiment or fondness like a normal person. Many of his employee's claimed he had no emotions at all.

That is why even if James Moriarty single-handedly save him from certain, violent death, Sebastian never expected to be anything more than a small distraction until his time came to pass like all before him.

That's why after every suicide attempt the damaged man made, and every drunken confession he told to his sniper, the man was surprised to wake up every morning after and the morning after that. No one ever was dumb enough to hear one of Moriarty's life secrets and live to know about it. Most employees who even dared to identify him as anything more than 'Boss', 'sir' or 'Moriarty', even in private, usually met certain death. A death that was undoubtedly slow and painful, nonetheless.

Then there was Sebastian Moran. The man who identified his boss as anything from 'Jim' and as time went on, escalating to endearing names like 'kitten' and 'my love'. But never once did he dare to dream it meant he was something special that Jim would allow him to identify him as such. He simply assumed everyone else flirted with Jim and acted casually around him. Jim didn't find him anything special, and no matter how unexpectedly close Sebastian was allowed to the illusive man did he ever think he mattered to Jim as more than a good shag and a loyal employee.

One morning in assignment with the men under his command, he dared to publically identify his Boss in a much unfamiliar way, leading to the death of one of his snipers. It started as a particularly groggy day, the typical London fog lacing between buildings and underneath peoples feet. The moment Sebastian woke up, he knew it was going to be a bad day for Jim. Despite the dark persona and soul of his dearest Jim, the man surprisingly despised grey weather and yearned for the sun in its presence. Every time the sun dared to cloak itself behind clouds and even worse-unpredictable, drizzly, weather, Jim automatically snapped into psychotic, killing rampage mode. Which is what happened in the usual debriefing warehouse outside of town.

"Morning men! Nice to see you all looking so chipper on a morning such as this." Sebastian smiled, thoroughly basking in the overcast skies. A few very exhausted looking men grumbled in response, too tired to find interest in anything this early. "All right guys, I know it's early but you have some very crucial assignments today. Jim-"

Suddenly, the men found something very interesting that was worth being awake for. Did their superior just call Moriarty '/Jim/'? A sharp intake of breath shook every throat in the room save for Sebastian.

"says many things depend on the success of these missions." Startled by the unexpected change in the character of his men in the room, Sebastian looked up, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What happened guys? Is there something on my face?"

"Y-You said his name." One of the brave but stupid men dared to admit, his eyes blown wide with horror and admiration.

"Who? Jim's? I always use his name, don't you?" The sniper was thoroughly confused, and upon looking around the room, it only served to confuse him more so.

"No, we're not allowed. It's one of the rules." Another piped up, causing Sebastian's blonde eyebrows to come together in a straight line, past any point of understanding at that point. His mind couldn't even dare to formulate an appropriate response to the startling presentation of facts. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything more since another brave soul chimed in.

"We must only identify him as 'Boss' 'sir' or Moriarty'." The first man to speak snorted back a laugh, his eyes rolling back as if he just experienced a sudden epiphany.

"Yeah, maybe all this time he didn't care what we called him. I bet we could be calling him Jim this whole-" That instant, the smile was wiped from his face as soon as a bullet came flying through the window and into his neck. Slow and painful death was inevitably to follow. In that moment, as the thin man lay on the floor choking and spluttering his own blood as it filled his lungs, he knew.

He knew that while he never expected his love to be requited, that no one ever expected Jim Moriarty to have a weakness, it had happened. Every eye was on him and simultaneously **everyone **knew Sebastian Moran was not to be messed with, under any circumstances. At that point, everyone began to identify him with the flattering title 'The Second Most Dangerous Man In London', much to his surprise.

Maybe Jim couldn't feel emotions like love or infatuation, but he definitely could experience fondness like anyone did. Fondness over his Westwoods, his Lamborghini, his network, but now fondness over the only man who was ever brave enough to try and save him from himself.

Sebastian sped out of the warehouse and from the inquisitive eyes of his men, unable to deal with the blatant truth that now his whole group became aware of. Hopes and fears were shooting around in his mind, begging for dominance and questions searching for answers which he could not provide. He couldn't go back to the flat now. Technically he had the hour after briefing off, though he usually disregarded the freedom to roam around London and opted to attempt to 'sleep' instead. Then again, he never did get any sleep while Jim was there, who was usually talking to him the entire time. Sometimes daring to sit on the bed and just ramble on while the sniper laid there, listening. It didn't bother Sebastian who found the Irish purr to be quite soothing and a suitable replacement for sleep.

But not today. He needed time to himself to think and reflect on the new information. Without notifying Jim, the sniper took off and went to a deserted by quite little coffee shop in a sketchy-looking centre behind any recognisable (and probably legal) businesses. Over a large black coffee and the span of a half hour, Sebastian had organised his thoughts appropriately. He just wouldn't say anything to his boss about the situation, it's not like there was a point to it anyway. Jim would never admit he cared about him-not sober at least, and somehow even though the thought physically pained him, Sebastian knew he'd be okay with it. Because he would always be here to protect the small man and nothing could ever take him from his boss willingly.

Paying the bill a taking a cab back to the shared flat took longer than expected. Upon his arrival back to the flat, he found his hour had been almost used up and he began to worry. Jim would murder him for being so late-literally. Shooting up the stairs, Sebastian ripped open the door to find the living room surprisingly empty, the seat where Jim normally sat vacant with his laptop laying open on the floor.

"Jim! Where are you? Sorry I'm late getting here, I stopped for coffee!" With each second that passed, Sebastian's heart began to feel heavy and alone.

The flat had never been this quite in all the time he'd been in it. The stupid record player always had something on, but as he spotted the arm up and away from the disc, he knew something was wrong. Jim loved that record player like he loved Westwood and complex murders. Sebastian shot into their bedrooms and the kitchen but found no sign of his boss. A muffled moan could be distantly heard behind the closed bathroom door and the sniper felt like an idiot for not realising the friggin bathroom door was closed with a light on. Without waiting for any other sign, his heavy boot came down against the door. The lock instantly gave and the door swung open, rocking on its hinges.

There are few sights that Sebastian would say turned his stomach as much as what he saw. Being well trained in the military and the very nature of his job had given him an iron stomach when it came to blood and bodies covered in the plasma. But nothing could have prepared him for seeing Jim, his Jim, slouching against the bathroom wall with blood flowing profusely down a vertical cut in his pale arm. It wasn't the first time the criminal had been drenched in blood, but it was the first time Sebastian was afraid of whether or not he'd make it.

"Jesus fucking Christ! Jim, what did you do? Oh my…my kitten, why did you do this?" Sebastian demanded, panic rising in his voice. A second later, he was reaching into the cabinet beneath the sink and withdrawing a roll of gauze and an Ace bandage. Lifting Jim's arm up, he quickly wrapped it firmly with gauze to hold his arm together and then covered the white fabric with the tan of the Ace bandage. Sebastian prayed to God that it would be enough to hold until they got to the hospital.

"Come on Jim, we're going to go on a trip, okay? We gotta be nice to the ladies this time, okay?" As he lifted the tiny figure into his arms, Sebastian made sure to plead with the man to be okay, to be nice, to be anything that showed he was alive. Luckily for Sebastian, Jarvis-Jim's personal driver, was just arriving at the flat for pickup.

"Mr Moran, sir-" The young man began but was cut off by a quick glare from Sebastian and instead shot to the driver's seat.

"Hospital, the private one a few blocks away. And so help me God, if we're not there in two minutes, your brains will be decorating the windshield. Go! Now!" Sebastian growled and wailed at the man, tears in his eyes as he tightly held onto Jim's body which seemed to be stiller than before if even possible.

Jarvis made good on his demands, his ginger hair and wide-blue eyes staring intently in front of him as he pushed through traffic. One minute and a half later, the car was rolling to a stop in front of the door to the grey, stone building. From the outside it looked empty and deserted, but once the sniper strode through the doors with the tiny body in his hands, a plethora of nurses were rushing around, recognising the man and his sniper. Internally it looked much like any other hospital but getting fired from here much larger a claim.

Jim was placed on a gurney and wheeled away to an immediate operating room, forcing the desolate sniper to stand awkwardly in the lobby, covered in blood from the only person he wanted to be with right now. A kind hearted nurse led him to the room where Jim would be after being taken care of and he slumped down into the chair by the bed without a word, his eyes vacant and helpless. Tears fought their way to the surface and Sebastian tensed. He stared at the wall, dejected, for an hour as he waited. Each second diminished his hope and inflated his guilt. If he had just been there, he could've prevented this.

A thought occurred to him. A thought that stunk of self-hate and guilt shook his emotions. What if Jim decided to do this because he decided to run off and not tell him? Instantly, Sebastian whipped his phone out and nearly died at the notification at the screen.

**SIX NEW MESSAGES**

**Sebastian, you're late getting home. –JM**

**Where the fuck are you? –JM**

**Timothy says you never got to the car. I know you didn't get hurt on the way to the car. It's a block away for God's sake. You're such a hopeless git. Hurry up and get home. –JM**

**I heard you went the way opposite the car. Is this about killing that sniper? Paul? I'm sorry. See? I said the word. Doesn't that show you that I mean it? Come home, now. –JM**

**Please come home. I'm sorry Sebby. I won't kill your men without telling you okay? Please just come home. Please? I've never said please in my life, but I will for you. Come home please. –JM**

**I get it, okay? Goodbye Sebastian. –JM**

As he got to the end of his messages, he could feel himself shaking, his heart slowly crumbling into guilty pieces. It was his fault entirely that Jim was in this sodding hospital. He always knew Jim was needy but this…this broke his heart. Sobbing gross, guttural sobs, Sebastian could feel himself curling into a ball. He ruined everything. The Army didn't even want him and the one good thing he had was very likely dying.

Sometime during his pity fest, he slipped into a heavy slumber, his emotions draining him and knocking him out like a light. His mind was too exhausted to dare dream. No sound could wake him as his senses refused to be bothered by external stimuli. That's much the reason why the doctors were able to wheel a drowsy Jim into the room and onto the bed without receiving a rise from the sniper. Much to their advantage, none the less.

Another hour later and the sniper finally came to, regaining consciousness like a light being flipped on as per his military service taught him. Every sense hit him at once, hammering him with stimulation. He would have normally stopped to absorb the things around him, but only one thing mattered.

"Jim." He breathed, his voice heavy with sleep and tears. The small figure turned away from Sebastian and looked to the wall opposite the sniper. Sebastian was rushing to the side of his bed instantly, placing his hand on Jim's shoulder only to have the shoulder yanked away from him with much force. "I'm so sorry Jim. I just went for coffee. I was shocked that Paul died from saying your name when…when I don't and I was just thinking over a cup of coffee, please forgive me. You know I wouldn't abandon you."

"Yes you would." The croaked response startled Sebastian as he leaned to see Jim's vacant eyes, pain seeping from the socket.

"No, Jim. I wouldn't, and I'm not just talking about in business, because it's clear that this has more to do with than business." The thin body flinched at the words, a small groan escaping though he knew they were true. "I care about you, kitten. Even if it's foolish or unwise, I care about you and I won't let you do this again."

"Why."

"W-Why what? Why do I care? Why don't I want to see you hurt? What's the question?"

"Yes." Jim simply responded with a sniff, unable to say anything more to the man who he felt so strongly for, much to his dread. He hated being out of control, and that's exactly what Sebastian did to him, turned him human. Sighing, Sebastian rubbed Jim's shoulder gently.

"I care about you because I've grown close with you. I mean, I spend every waking moment with you practically and I just…you're fascinating and brilliant, and adorable and…ah, fuck me. I love you, that's why I care and can't see you hurt, okay? So make your jokes as much as you want, but it's true. It's foolish, and unexpected, and it's true." Pulling his hand back, the bulky man forced his gaze to the floor.

"Say that again." Jim whispered, turning to look at Sebastian with wide, hopeful eyes.

"I-I love you?" Sebastian asked, his voice choked with surprise and emotion.

"Lay with me." The demand shocked them both, never expecting Jim Moriarty to ask someone to lie in bed with them. Alas, the sniper obliged, climbing into bed next to Jim and making their bodies parallel. Both men were on their sides facing each other, their eyes focusing on the pair in front of them. "I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for Jim? This is all my fault and I'm sorry for just taking off like that."

"It's not your fault I'm a psychopath with suicidal tendencies."

"Maybe not, but if I had been there instead of running off to think over a cup of coffee, I could have prevented it. It's my job to take care of you, Jim."

"I'm sorry I can't be perfect. I will always be like this, and it'd be much better for you to stay away. Run away even, it's not like I could kill you. Go find a pretty woman, and have kids, and make her your wife-"

"Shut up. I don't want any of that shit. I want you and if you'll have me then I have nothing to worry about, and if you won't, then I'd much prefer to spend the rest of my life in your humble service." The two exchanged a smile and Jim nodded, scooting close against Sebastian's chest and the sniper responded with an arm around the pale shoulders.

"If you're dumb enough to want to be mine then I guess I can't help but take pity on you and except." Jim commented with a roll of his eyes, but a moment later he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the snipers lips, free from the usual lust and hunger their kisses usually embodied. This kiss, though only a blip in the span of the snipers life, reassured him that Jim cared. It was raw but sweet which would only be sentiment, or if he dare hope-love.

Sebastian remembered something Jim had said a while back. They had been watching some sappy movie about a guy who'd gone off to war and returned and blah, blah, blah, but at the end, the male protagonist gave the female his dog tags. Jim's expression on the part was one of jealousy and sadness. 'That's so sweet.' He had whispered as Sebastian pretended to be sleeping next to him.

"In that case…" He began, his hands fumbling to unclasp the chain around his neck, leaning forward he secured it around Jim's neck with a smile. The large hazel eyes looked up, wonder and awe dripping from his face and Sebastian knew it was a good move. "You like them?"

"Yes…this is…Oh, Seb…" Jim looked up, his large eyes dotted with tears only the sniper would ever be able to see. The small pale arms-the injured one thankfully bandaged, made their way around Sebastian's neck and Jim instantly was cuddling against the warm chest.

"I remember that movie we saw that one time, and you seemed pretty interested… so yeah." He said awkwardly, snaking his arms around Jim to hold him and rest his head on the handsome brunette one which let out a small giggle. "Now you'll remember that I'm always coming back to you and won't pull this again. Those dog tags are the second most important thing in my life."

"Second? I distinctly remember you saying that the tags were /part/ of you and your 'prized possession'." Jim retorted bashfully, snuggling closer still.

"Yeah? Well shut up, you're more important." The both chuckled softly at that, and the larger man planted a kiss on the head against his chest. "You need to go back to sleep, you lost a lot of blood."

"Okay Sebby."


End file.
